The Rube Goldberg Reaction
by Traviosita9124
Summary: Marshall has a bad reaction when Mary suffers a slight injury during a witness transfer. Lots o' comfort ensues. Title comes from the type of machine that depends on a chain reaction to get the job done. M/M, One Shot, Adult. Please read and review.


I know I said I wouldn't be posting any new stories while I was in school, but this plot bunny took root and wouldn't leave me alone. I pumped this out pretty quickly so I could get back to finals studying; please forgive me any typos.

As always, I appreciate your feedback; please leave a review so I can give you guys some more of what you want.

-Katie

12-17-2010: now with edits! Yay!

* * *

"Mary!"

She looked up through the swinging double-doors of the emergency room to see her partner running towards her, worry plastered across his face. He was on her before she could pull her jacket back on, his focus on her right shoulder as he gently lifted the sleeve of her shirt to look at the wound.

"Marshall, it's nothing, let's just go—"

"Bullshit. You got shot, now be quiet and let me see."

His fingers probed the bandage the doctors had placed on the wound, his face calm; only the slight trembling in his fingers betrayed his deep concern for her welfare.

They'd been ambushed at an exchange in Lamesa, Texas, where they went to meet the Houston team and hand off the witness. Houston brought their fugitive-apprehension team for extra fire power, something that had set both Mary and Marshall on edge; four extra U.S. Marshals walking around with assault weapons telegraphed that something big was going down. They went ahead with the hand off like they were supposed to, but not before Mary had gotten into it with the blonde from Houston, Frost. Mary had taken exception to how roughly she'd hustled the witness, a 26 year old abuse victim, into the GMC and told her so.

Just as she turned to walk back to Marshall and their ride out of town, shots rang out, striking Frost's convoy. The Houston fugitive task force, not being used to WITSEC protocol, turned to fire on their assailants without bothering to secure the witness. Mary turned on a dime and flew toward the truck, pushing the girl further inside and onto the floorboards. Slamming the door behind her, Mary took a defensive stance, both weapons drawn as she returned fire. Marshall, 20 feet away and unable to get closer to her without presenting himself as a target, had to settle for keeping an eye on Mary from his position and praying that nothing happened.

* * *

He saw her fall and felt his heart stop. The air whooshed out of his lungs as if he'd been hit in the gut when he saw the red bloom forming on her shirt.

He returned to somewhat normal when he found she was alive, just winded from taking a shot in her vest; the blood was from a flesh wound. Mary, contrary as always, fought as he bundled her into a bus to the hospital. He only got her to agree when he promised they wouldn't leave until their witness was well on her way with the Houston WITSEC team. Frost led her Marshals in loading up the two assailants that survived the gunplay. When he noticed the other blonde headed their way, he made a point of yanking the door shut and telling the EMT to get a move on to the hospital.

Now, three hours later, he conducted his own examination of her wound.

"Marshall, really, it's okay. It's just a graze; doctor says I'll heal just fine as long as I keep the dressing clean and take my antibiotics. They already called the prescription in to Walgreens so I can pick it up at home. I have samples for the road. Now, let's go."

He met her eyes, trying to get a read on whether or not she could travel. She looked tired, eyes glassy from the drugs, but determined. He carefully lowered the sleeve over the bandage and let her finish putting on her coat.

"It's a six and a half hour drive back to Albuquerque; I can drive it, and you can sleep."

"That won't be a problem. Your driving would put an insomniac to bed," Mary tossed at him as she headed out the door to the parking lot.

Marshall just gave a soft chuckle and shook his head, glad to see she was her usual self.

* * *

She could feel his hesitation as they sat in front of her house, the GMC engine idling. She knew he didn't want to leave her alone; since she had been shot the previous year, he'd been beyond overprotective. Mary couldn't blame him; she had felt the same impulse after their run in with Horst and his merry band of hitmen resulted in him bleeding into a plastic water bottle.

"Here we are, Mare. Do you need me to grab your bag?"

She didn't want to be left alone; with Jinx and Brandi gone, it was too quiet, and she was too prone to nightmares given her history with gunshot wounds to think she was going to sleep through the night.

"Grab yours, too. With my shoulder out of commission, I'm gonna need a minion to serve my every whim." She saw his eyes darken slightly, despite the dim light in the cab. An answering fission of heat flared in her chest. "Mind out of the gutter, Pervis; get moving. I want Chinese, and you're buying."

* * *

They spent the better part of the evening watching TV and eating straight from takeout containers. As he worked his way through the beer in Mary's fridge, Marshall noticed the obvious effect the antibiotics had on her as she slumped further into the couch cushions, feet propped up on the coffee table.

His heart still wasn't beating normally; it was a fight to not find an excuse to keep touching her, to make sure she was really alive next to him. He knew that if he hadn't clamped down on his impulse, Mary would have called him on it and given him hell. He still had nightmares about her being shot by that gangbanger, still had to struggle with the guilt of going on a date instead of staying and backing up his partner, still itched to get his hands on "Mr. Day" and thrash him for putting Mary in that situation in the first place.

The worst nights were the ones where after a dream so vivid he could smell her blood in the air, could see her slipping away, he woke up convinced that she had died on the operating table.

He gave himself a mental shake and began picking up the takeout containers and empties. He worked quietly in an attempt to let Mary get a little more shuteye, making sure the recycling was sorted and the silverware was clean.

She was stirring as he came back into the room.

"Come on, sleepyhead," he murmured as he patted her knee, "time to get you into bed."

She got up off the couch, her gait a little stiff. "How long have you been waiting to use that line on me, Doofus?"

He chuckled a little as he followed her down the hall to her room. "Do you need me to get you anything before I settle in for the night?"

He froze in the doorway, watching as she got her pajamas out. She turned to face him, eyes serious with a touch of barely concealed vulnerability as she considered him. He felt the same tension he had felt in the truck, faint but present, causing his body to hum with the urge to cross the room and touch her.

"Get your pajamas, Marshall. Sleep in here tonight."

He knew that was the closest he'd get to her telling him she was shaken up by the day's events. Silently, he went to get ready before slipping into bed next to his partner for the night.

* * *

When she woke in the middle of the night, it took her a moment to realize it was her partner curled around her. It was the long limbs that gave him away, and the cadence of his breathing; this was by no means the first time they had shared a bed. There had been plenty of times on transfers where there were no other beds. There had also been plenty of times that despite a plethora of beds, one of them had a panic attack or nightmare in the middle of the night and the other had crawled in to comfort their partner. Other than keeping bad dreams at bay, their habit had the added benefit of reassuring each other that they were actually breathing instead of whatever horrific end they had come to during the previous REM cycle.

However, this was the first time Marshall had ever placed such a death grip on her, his fingertips slipped in just underneath the elastic of her panties to curl around her hipbone. The heat radiating from his hand made her chest constrict as a shiver ran through her body; she felt a familiar ripple of attraction for her partner run through her causing her nipples to tighten. She felt like a heel. Marshall was in the middle of a nightmare and she was tempted to jump his bones.

Just then, as he tightened his grip and gave an anguished moan, Mary realized that was what had woken her. Turning carefully to not jostle her shoulder, she nestled into his chest and placed her left hand over his heart.

"Marshall?" she whispered. He didn't stir. She tried again, shaking him. "Marshall, wake up. It's just a bad dream."

Slowly he came to, his eyes bright with tears. "Mare?" her name on his lips was said with amazement. She didn't need to ask to know that in whatever dream he'd been having, she'd been dead.

"I'm right here, Marshall."

He had her in a suffocating hug before she realized what was happening, his face buried in her neck as he sobbed softly. She brought her left hand up to twine her fingers into his hair, her nails scraping gentle, repetitive, calming circles against his scalp as he tried to get himself under control. He finally told her what happened in his dream, his breath coming out in hot pants on the sensitive skin of her neck and upper chest.

"You died, Mare. The shot… the shot wasn't a graze on your shoulder, it… it… it got you in the neck, just above your vest. I got there in time to hold you as you bled out. I couldn't stop the bleeding, and none of them cared you were dying. You died looking at me…"

She held him tighter, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she made shushing noises to calm him. She felt him calm in her arms, his breathing slowing to a normal rate. Just then, gentle as a butterfly's wing so she could barely feel it, his lips pressed against her neck just over her pulse point. She froze, felt her nipples tingle as he repeated the kiss and his hand found its way under her shirt to dance across her lower back.

"Mare," her name exhaled as a grateful prayer from an adoring man's lips.

She pulled back to get a better look at his face in the little bit of light that came in from outside. His eyes were still damp from tears, but his look was certain as it skittered her face to fixate on her mouth; she was aware as her breathing became shallow, her own eyes focused on Marshall's face. She took in the angles of his cheeks and chin, his mussed hair and finally settled to examine his lips: pale pink, thin upper lip and a plump lower lip that she was sorely tempted to nibble on…

Just as the thought scurried across her brain, Marshall leaned in slowly and kissed her, the barest brushing of lips with a hint of passion behind it. He was letting her take control; if she wanted it she could push for more, if not she could roll over and go back to sleep.

She wanted more, and nipped his lip to give him the green light. She leaned away, rolling onto her back to tempt him over her. He followed willingly, supporting himself on his forearms, still kissing her gently. Mary tugged on his shirt and Marshall, smart boy that he is, yanked it over his head. She enjoyed exploring him with her fingertips as they kissed. She was hard pressed to decide which thrilled her more, the sound he made when she danced her tongue over his or the way he bucked into her, cock hard against her hip, when she lightly scratched her nails over his nipples. He pulled away from another kiss to rest his forehead against hers; he stopped her when she tried to reclaim his mouth.

"Mare, this might not be the best idea with your shoulder…"

She angled her head to get a clear shot at his throat, took her time alternating kisses and nips until he was trembling above her. "Marshall," she whispered into the hollow of his throat, "I want you. My shoulder is a little sore, but that means we save the mattress acrobatics for later."

"Later?" he asked, his voice betraying that "later" was more than he ever thought he could hope for; Mary wanted to cry for this man, her partner, for everything she had ever put him through and every time she caused him heartache.

"Later, Marshall," she kissed him, "meaning at another time," another kiss, "when we're both healthy and I can see for myself how flexible you are," she placed another kiss over his heart. "and you can see how flexible I am."

She met his eyes and couldn't help but smile when she saw the grin plastered across her partner's face. She reached for the hem of her shirt; Marshall beat her to it and raised the material over her head. Mary pushed up on her elbows as he reached behind her to take off her bra; as the flimsy material fell away, he placed kisses down from her collarbone and down between the valley of her breasts before suckling her right nipple into his mouth as his fingertips toyed with the other one. She moaned, feeling wetness pool between her legs as she involuntarily flexed her hips up to meet his as her fingers knotted in his hair. He worked his way down her body, placing kissed over her torso, worshiping every scar where he had nearly lost her, until he reached the fabric of her pajama bottoms.

He curled his fingers around the thin material, careful to catch her panties with it, as he placed a sucking kiss on the jut of her left hip. He scraped his teeth over the spot as he dragged the last of her clothing down her legs, leaving her bare to him; Mary couldn't remember the last time she'd been this wet for man, or this wound up without any serious foreplay. Marshall was running random paths up and down her legs with his fingers, distracting her further as she gave into the whims of her body. She laid back and let her eyes drift shut as his fingers came up to skim across her folds; she moaned in frustration when he didn't touch her directly and had to stop herself from kicking him when he chuckled.

Marshall stretched out along her side, his left hand propping up his head as his right drew lazy circles on her right hip; he lowered his mouth to her ear to suckle the lobe into his mouth.

"Do you have any idea how absolutely beautiful you are?" he murmured as he slid a finger into her, pumping slowly. She worked her right arm around him and her right hand found its way under his boxers; she got a hand on his ass and pulled him closer as he slid another finger home and his thumb found her clit. He licked a line down her throat as she let out a strangled moan; his low laugh was decidedly sexual and pushed Mary closer to her climax. "I can't believe how responsive you are; I can't believe how lucky I am to have you…" He leaned across her to capture her left nipple in his mouth as he pumped faster and pressed a little more firmly on her clit. She moaned as he found her sweet spots, marveled at how talented her partner's fingers were; he was playing her as skillfully as Liszt played his piano, his hips flexing into her right thigh as he did. She felt her muscles start to contract and her orgasm ripped through her with a cry, a cry that Marshall swallowed as he kissed her. "Absolutely beautiful," he whispered as she calmed down.

She missed his warmth when he slipped off the edge of the bed to shuck himself out of his own pajama bottoms, freeing his rather impressive erection.

"Do we need…?" he let the question hang as he gestured to her nightstand.

Mary knew she had plenty of condoms; she also knew she had no need for them with this man. She would know if he hadn't tested clean, and he would know the same for her. She shook her head 'no' and extended a hand out to him to bring him back to bed. He came back to her, a magnet drawn to its opposite, and settled himself into the natural cradle of her hips. Marshall felt right above her, his weight was comforting as he leaned down to kiss her deeply before pushing into her. He stopped inside of her, kept perfectly still as he kissed her, and refused to let her push him to starting.

"Marshall…" she wheedled, more than a little ashamed at the pleading tone in her voice.

"I'm enjoying, Mary," he explained. "We only get one first time; I want to remember this feeling when I'm old and grey, how tight you are around me, how hot and wet," he hissed out a frustrated breath as she flexed her muscles around him purposefully. He smirked when he noticed the cheeky grin she gave him. "Impatient; you're gonna have to learn to enjoy the finer things in life, Mare."

"I'd rather enjoy you at full speed."

With a smile and a laugh, he began to move, keeping his pace leisurely; when she attempted to raise her legs higher on his torso, he pinned her legs flat to the bed with only her feet hooked around the backs of his knees. While it wasn't the deep penetration she wanted, his shallower thrusts allowed for steady friction on that all-important bundle of nerves. Before she knew it, she was slowly but surely headed toward another orgasm, her nipples hardened to points that Marshall took turns capturing in his mouth, licking and nipping as she crashed over the brink yet again. He smiled down at her as she came back to earth, and kissed her deeply before hitching her legs higher around his ribs.

When he began pounding into her, Mary found that she enjoyed watching him as he began to fall apart. It only took a minute or two before he came, spilling hotly into her; for the second time that evening Mary felt his ragged, panting breaths spill across her neck and chest. Marshall's hair was sweat-slicked, and there was a light sheen across his back, chest and biceps. As he recovered, she took careful inventory of him, the lines of his musculature, the way he felt all around her, the way he smelled.

He kissed her as he slid out of her and made his way to the bathroom. He came back with a towel that he ran gently over the sensitive area between her legs before cleaning himself off. He tossed the towel into her hamper and slid back under the covers next to her. He pulled her back into the protective circle of his arms against his chest, placed a kiss to the nape of her neck and settled down to go back to bed.

For once, Mary found herself unwilling to pull herself out of a man's grasp.

* * *

Marshall woke to early morning sun and an empty bed. If he hadn't been in Mary's room, naked beneath her sheets, he would have thought it was all a dream.

Just then, his missing partner, still gloriously naked and armed with what seemed to be breakfast came in.

"What do you have?"

"I have plans to keep you in bed all day. However, to make sure my plans aren't derailed, I need you energized," she explained with a grin, holding out a mug of coffee and a box of Entenmann's chocolate-covered doughnuts.

Marshall took both with a grin, sipped his coffee before tossing the box to the side and setting his coffee on the bedside table while reaching for Mary's left hand with a fiendish grin. A gentle tug brought her spilling onto his lap; she landed straddling him, her hands on his shoulders as his arms came around her waist. He felt his groin stir as he felt her breasts pressed against his chest.

"Marshall, what—?"

He silenced her with a kiss.

"Breakfast can wait."

* * *

FIN


End file.
